


The Oracle

by YvonneSilver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s07e07 The Bells of Saint John, Gen, Pre-Episode: s07e07 The Bells of Saint John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvonneSilver/pseuds/YvonneSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having found and lost Clara twice, the Doctor sets out to find her. However, as usual, he doesn't exactly land where he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oracle

With its usual whooshing sound the TARDIS materialises. "Whoo! That was a ride!" The door creaks open a crack, the Doctor's head appears. His hair is dishevelled and his bowtie slightly crooked but he's grinning from ear to ear. The grin fades slightly as he glances at his surroundings. "Hmmm, this doesn't look like the oracle of Delphi." There is a metallic clang as the Doctor hops outside of the police box. He doesn't seem interested in his surroundings and turns first to his TARDIS. "You've been really jumpy lately dear." He strokes the blue wood and lays his ear against the door. "Searching all of time and space for one specific person isn't exactly a piece of pie and you're not really helping. Are you coming down with something?" BEEEEEEP! The Doctor visibly jumps as a loud, high-pitched warning sound echoes around. "Ooh, ah, yes, I've arrived. Somewhere. New place. Okay." He finally turns around to survey the room he's landed in.

There really isn't much to survey. It's a large, metal circular room. The walls, floor and ceiling are bare and polished to a bright shine. The room is light, but there is no discernible light source. The centre of the room is occupied by a man-sized cylinder of the same shiny metal. But the Doctor's attention is immediately drawn to the metal box at the base of the cylinder. More specifically, to the large digital display on its top face, which appears to be the only non-metallic thing in the room. Bright red lines display the digital number 09. "Okay, large metal dryer, no visible doors and a number. Three squared. The amount of lives a cat has. The number of Sontarans it takes to reach a lightbulb." He smiles at his own joke, but there is no-one else to laugh at it and he focuses on the number again. "What's special about the number nine?" BEEEEEEP! Flustered, the timelord looks around for the source of the sound. Then he realises, the display has changed. A bright stripe has been added to make the number 08. "Ah. All right, so it's a countdown. That's generally not a good sign." His look of worry turns accusatory as he turns to his trusty TARDIS. "How do you always manage to land us in such a state?" BEEEEEEP! The harsh sound causes the Doctor to spin back round again. "Ah. Okay, so it's a countdown and it's speeding up. Great. Let's see what we can do about that."

There's nothing like a little danger to put the Doctor in his element. With a flourish the timelord produces his sonic screwdriver from his inside coat pocket. Accompanied by the screwdriver's high-pitched humming the Doctor strides around the metal cylinder. With a flick of the wrist he opens the screwdriver and examines the humming light. "Yes, well, right. That doesn't help me at all." He frowns at this trusty tool and taps it a few times. "Hang on." With two long strides he steps back in front of the timer. In bright red, the number 07 shines up at him. "The timer has stopped." With a bemused look he raises the screwdriver up to eye-level. "Did you do that?" BEEEEEEP! He raises an eyebrow, "Apparently not." With a sigh he lowers the screwdriver and looks down at the 06. "Okay, so maybe you're not a timed countdown after all. So then who's influencing the count down?" BEEEEEEP! As the number flickers down to 05 the Doctor starts pacing in front of the display again. "Yes, well, the only other thing in this frankly BORING room," he gestures at the bare metal around him, "is me, so it's something I'm doing.  Or, or, or, something I'm saying!" He halts his pacing midway. "I should stop talking." He presses his lips firmly together and resumes his pacing, running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. He looks down at his other hand and realises he's still holding the screwdriver. Stopping, he raises his eyebrows at it, as though he'd forgotten he had it, then he places it back in his pocket with a soft hum.

Seeing as his trusty tool hasn't given him any new information, it is time for the hands-on approach. Slowly, he makes his way round the outside of the circular room, running his hands along the smooth metal. Before long, he is humming something to himself, keeping his lips tightly pressed together. Having made a full circle, he crosses back to the centre pillar and knocks on it. The frown on his face shows that metallic clang doesn't seem to tell him anything, and he grunts his disappointment. Still wordlessly mumbling, the timelord steps in front of the metal box bearing the display. He nudges the box with the toe of his shoe. Nothing happens. He looks around, as if to verify that there's no-one nearby. Then he gives the box a swift kick. "Aaaah!" The Doctor shouts out in frustration mixed with pain, hopping backwards, holding onto his sore foot. "You know what?" BEEEEEEP! The loud sound drowns out whatever it is the Doctor wants the counter to know. "Right, that's it. I'm leaving. I don't even want to know what it is you're counting." Under normal circumstances he would have stomped back to the TARDIS. As it is now, he gingerly hops the distance, though he does slam the door for good measure.

Seconds pass. The TARDIS shows no sign of leaving. Eventually, the door opens a crack again, and the timelord peaks out, looking for all the world like a little boy about to sneak out of his bedroom after bedtime. No matter how infuriating this bare room is, he simply can't leave without solving its mystery. He steps out of his TARDIS, closing the door softly behind him, and shuffles back over to the box. He surveys the display, deep in thought, going back over everything that happened in his mind, mumbling to himself. "It's not one specific word. It's not the numbers." He bends over and traces the glowing outline of the number four. Then he straightens, adjusts his bow tie in a practiced gesture and announces to the empty room: 'It's the questions." There is a whirring deep within the central pillar followed suddenly by a computerized, female voice speaking at high speed. "She is unwilling but otherwise fine. It is the amount you have left. It is where you are needed. No he did not. You are. Yes I know that really hurt." The Doctor swirls around, beaming with pleasure with his solution and he flashes a smile at his beloved time-machine. He lovingly runs a hand down her wooden doors. "Look at you dear. You brought us exactly what I wanted." He leans in close for a whispered "Thank you", before swivelling back round to the display again. With a determined look on his face he straightens his jacket. "Right, and there is one thing I would really like to know." He leans in close to the display, speaking the name slowly and clearly for added effect. "Clara Oswin Oswald. Where can I find her?" The lights on the display change silently as the voice answers "She will find you. Everywhere." The triumphant look on the Doctors face melts into one of annoyance again. "Right, oracles. Never a straight answer." He considers for a moment. "Where will Clara and I meet next," there is a beat, then he remembers to add, "in my timeline?" for good measure. The central pillar whirs as the lights on the display turn 03 into 02. When the whirring stops the cool voice answers with a single word. "Earth." "Hrmph. Yes, that narrows it down, but that's still a whole planet." He halts himself from adding a snarky 'you know?' just in time. "What coordinates on earth do I need to go to?" The voice replies with a string of numbers as the display shows that only one question may be asked. The Doctor nods with a satisfied smile as he calculates where those coordinates are. "See, that was all I needed to know. Thank you." His hand is already on the TARDIS door when he turns back to the display again. "No wait, hang on. When?" The second the word leaves his mouth he already regrets not asking for specifics again. But the cool voice answers: "Earth time, 29th of August 1998". The display now shows two zeroes. It flicks on and off twice as a powering-down-sound echoes around the chamber, then it switches off. "Lancashire, 29th of August, 1998!" The Doctor echoes with a triumphant smile. He tugs at the door, then pushes it open and disappears inside. The police box whooshes and fades.


End file.
